Read it through once

FALSTAFF. [_To Robin_.] Hold, sirrah, bear you these letters tightly; Sail like my pinnace to these golden shores.— Rogues, hence, avaunt! Vanish like hailstones, go! Trudge, plod away o’ th’ hoof, seek shelter, pack! Falstaff will learn the humour of this age: French thrift, you rogues—myself and skirted page.